Through the Rainstorm
by Raletha
Summary: Sequel to Azure. Trowa has recovered his memories after using the ZERO system. Heero helps Trowa come to terms with his feelings for Quatre. (4x3x1 - canon, lime, angst, language, bit O' sap)


Through the Rainstorm

by Raletha

Rating: M/R

'Pairings': 4x3x1 (and other permutations thereof)

Content/Warnings: canon, lime, drama, language, bit o' sap

Summary: Trowa has recovered his memories after using the ZERO system. Heero helps Trowa come to terms with his feelings for Quatre.

Notes: Goes with two earlier fics, Stepping Stones (3x1x3) and Azure (4x1x4). A belated birthday gift for Mephisto Waltz to make up for having still not finished the 6x3 fic I started for her birthday last year. is bad

* * *

Alone Trowa sat in his quarters aboard Peacemillion. He'd been sitting silently with his eyes fixed on the space outside his small porthole for the past six hours. The heat from his shower had bled away seemingly eons ago and now he shivered. The space cold penetrated him completely. Even his chair's thickly padded vinyl provided little insulation. He thought about getting up to retrieve a blanket--or at least a pair of socks--but he felt frozen in place, not just by the cold but also by the persistent stream of memories roiling in his mind. They had him pinned, staring at the black void outside, trying to put the pieces back together. He remembered many things, yes, but it was almost too much to process.

Three faces featured most often. With each face came a spasm of indefinable emotion, each emotion as unique as the face with which it associated. Absently he rubbed his chest as if that might soothe the ache fluttering behind his breastbone.

A soft trill issued from his door. It took several moments before the meaning of the sound pierced Trowa's distraction. He sought his voice while the trill came again.

His first attempt at speech came out as a hoarse whisper. He coughed to clear his voice of its dry static and then spoke again: "Yeah?"

The door swooshed open and one of the three remembered faces entered his shadow-shrouded cabin. Dark hair, intense eyes, and a grim expression fused present and past and summoned a name: Heero. Trowa twisted in his seat by the window to face his visitor and tucked his bare feet closer to the warmth of his body.

"If I did what you did with ZERO today, you would tell me I'm an idiot," said Heero, "And you would be right."

"Is that why you're here? To tell me I'm an idiot?"

"No," Heero took a few uncertain steps closer to Trowa. The room's single burning wall light cast Heero's face half in shadow, half in brilliance. "Quatre told me your memories are back."

"Yeah."

Another few steps brought Heero within an arm's length of where Trowa sat. "So you remember me now?" He reached a tentative hand toward Trowa's face and let it hover in the space between them.

Trowa looked up at Heero's serious face and nodded once. He didn't speak, for the air in his lungs, instead of forming words, had seized his heart, squeezing it tightly. Heero took a breath for both of them and lightly touched Trowa's cheek with his palm, curling his fingers around to brush against Trowa's cheekbone.

"How much do you remember?" Heero asked. He tilted Trowa's face toward the light. His mouth softened as it shaped his words; the grimness left.

Trowa blinked up at him before casting down his gaze. With Heero's face were associated so many memories--there had been so much time between them. They'd cared for each other as comrades, as friends, as lovers. They'd fought for each other too. Trowa had felt safe with Heero. Eventually he'd even felt necessary.

Heero started to pull his hand away.

"Enough," Trowa said and grasped Heero's wrist, keeping the hand at his cheek and pressing his face into the touch. He remembered Heero's hands, not only their strength and their calluses, but also how gentle they could be. "I remember enough."

Their lovemaking had started as nothing more than simple sex--a way to share physical relief and find some pleasure. At first, Heero had served as a kind of proxy for Trowa: someone to help him ease the ache of his desire for someone absent and unattainable, and by doing so, bring comfort, closeness, and affection to someone unused to any of those things. Gradually though, as the affair with Heero progressed, Trowa stopped imagining the blond hair, and he started seeing Heero, his friend, who responded so eagerly to the novelty of shared affection.

But still, sometimes Trowa couldn't tell them apart in his head. Their faces, as different (and as similar) as dawn and dusk, blended together in his heart and in his mind, and Trowa didn't understand why. He'd never been as close to Quatre as he was to Heero, though he did yearn for it.

"Your hands are freezing." Heero pulled out of Trowa's grip and moved to inspect the thermostat on the wall. He fiddled with its buttons, and soon the room's single vent rattled and hummed and released a smell like burned dust. Trowa watched him.

"You shouldn't have it turned down so low," Heero said. "You could at least put on a sweater."

"It doesn't help much," answered Trowa.

"Come here then," Heero said, returning to where Trowa sat and holding out a hand, which Trowa took. Heero pulled him to his feet and embraced him loosely, rubbing his back and upper arms roughly to generate heat. "I've changed my mind, you are an idiot."

Trowa laughed. It was an ironic turn, for once he'd been the caretaker.

Heero stiffened for a moment, and then joined in with his own darker sounding laughter.

And the moment changed--abruptly.

The atmosphere shimmered and twisted between them. From amusement to the beginnings of arousal, Trowa felt his body responding to Heero's proximity, to his memories of touching Heero. The heat of Heero's body promised to warm him. Heero's hands, scrubbing heat along his spine incited a different kind of heat deep in Trowa's belly.

One of them initiated the kiss, but the other responded so quickly neither truly knew who had made the overture first. By mutual consent, the kiss quickly turned from hesitant to bruising. Trowa didn't remember ever kissing like this before, with so much force and saliva and teeth. An insatiable desire surged through him: to have his mouth open against Heero's, his tongue in his mouth, his hands on his skin... To have everything Heero offered him now, all the heat, all the familiarity, all the thrilling escape into mutual pleasure.

The intensity of this desire made him pull away, panting and reeling.

Heero met his gaze, his pupils dilated and his lips slack around his own breathless gasps. He nodded and then tugged Trowa with him toward the room's lower bunk.

Heero lay down first, on his side with his back against the metal of the bulkhead. Trowa stretched out facing Heero, until Heero prompted, "Turn around." So Trowa did.

Now with Heero warm and snug against his back, Trowa shivered again, but this time not just because of the cold.

"Shh," Heero said, lightly stroking Trowa's chest. "There's no rush."

Trowa closed his eyes and unclenched his jaw. He breathed slowly, concentrating on relaxing the tension in his body and feeling the sensation in his loins blossoming outward in a soothing, enveloping heat. Heero caressed him lightly over his clothes until Trowa's shivering had ceased and his breathing had grown regular again.

"You've changed," Trowa finally said.

"Changed how?" Heero asked, his hand sliding down Trowa's breastbone to his abdomen.

"You're more--" Trowa broke off with a shuddered gasp when Heero's hand ventured below his belt.

"More...?" Heero's palm folded over Trowa's crotch. Trowa could feel the heat of that touch even through the heavy denim of his jeans.

"...confident," Trowa sighed.

Behind him, Trowa felt Heero's erection digging against his rear, and before him, Heero rubbed the heel of his hand firmly along the ridge of Trowa's stiffened cock.

"Stop talking, Trowa. I want to make you feel good, warm you up."

"Yeah," Trowa murmured, giving in to the pleasurable tug building in his groin. He started to rock his hips into the rhythm of Heero's hand.

"We can talk later." Heero said and kissed him behind one ear. It sent a ticklish shiver down Trowa's spine. He twisted his neck, hoping to catch the next kiss on his mouth.

Then the door trilled.

Trowa froze. "Damn it," he hissed.

Heero kissed his cheek and only minutely slowed the movement of his hand. "It's okay. That's Quatre," he said. "I told him I'd be here with you."

"What?"

"Come in," Heero called.

"What!" Trowa asked and tried to sit up just as the door opened. He bashed his head against the bottom of the top bunk with a resounding _thunk_ just as Quatre stepped into his cabin.

"Argh," Trowa muttered, clutching his head and falling back to his side. Heero's hand was still between his legs.

"Sorry," said Quatre.

"Are you all right?" asked Heero.

The door shut behind Quatre, who turned to enable the locking mechanism.

Trowa stared at his blond friend and rubbed the sore side of his head. "What in the hell is going on?" Normally he would be thrilled to see Quatre at his door, but right now? His head swam, from lack of blood, from ZERO, from the recent bashing, and from trying to understand why Heero... why Quatre...? He gave up and waited for an explanation to present itself.

It was an unfortunate legacy of Quatre's fair complexion, that when he returned his attention to Trowa, his cheeks were reddened with embarrassment--or some other emotional response.

Trowa turned--careful to avoid banging his head again--and leaned forward enough to sit up on the edge of his bunk. Heero moved closer behind him, wrapping an arm around his waist.

"Um," said Quatre, his gaze flicking from Trowa to Heero and back again. "Should I leave?"

"No," said Heero. "Stay, Quatre, please." He stretched out his other arm toward Quatre, palm up.

Quatre nodded slowly and smiled. He moved forward to take Heero's hand. There was a moment of uncertain hesitation--Trowa sensed it--before Quatre dropped to a crouch, resting his free hand lightly on Trowa's nearest thigh and leaning forward to kiss Heero softly on the mouth.

Trowa's head throbbed.

Slowly, Quatre pulled back from Heero and cocked his head to look up at Trowa. "Trowa," he began, and then stopped with an odd look directed again at Heero. The earnestness and openness of Quatre's expression blended with uncertainty and... fear?

Heero sat up, extended his legs on either side of Trowa, and gripped Trowa's shoulders. "We both love you," he said against the nape of Trowa's neck. The words were delivered in such a simple, easy manner it took several heartbeats before Trowa comprehended them--as much as he felt he could. But he didn't have a chance to formulate a response to them, for Quatre scooted closer, a hand on each of Trowa's thighs now, and started speaking.

His words came even and sure, soft and candid. "I know it's been easier for you to be with Heero than with me, but I also know how you feel about me. I can't help but know." Quatre paused with a small smile. "I know I've only made it harder for you, for me--for us--to be together in any way. But, Trowa, I want to try. I want to try to make things right between us. The way they should be."

"I don't think I understand what's happening here," Trowa said slowly. He met Quatre's gaze without flinching, to search it for both evidence of Quatre's knowledge and for the 'should be' of matters between them.

"I don't think it's something that's meant to be understood," said Heero.

"I want to love you, Trowa. With my body as well as my heart," said Quatre quietly, giving Trowa's legs an emphasizing squeeze. His hands had become patches of heat, nearly welded to Trowa's thighs.

"Let him love you," Heero whispered in Trowa's ear. "He's a very giving lover."

"You... you two?" Trowa asked, his imagination stumbling at first with the image of his two friends together.

Quatre blushed again. "In Sanq, yeah, we became... close."

"We missed you," offered Heero.

"But it wasn't just about you. There were other reasons," Quatre said with a sheepish grin, "Although I don't think we would have bothered with each other if we hadn't both cared for you first."

"You've wanted Quatre for a long time. I know you have," Heero murmured, "You told me you used to think of him while you fucked me."

Trowa didn't think he'd heard Heero use the word 'fuck' before. It sent a jolt straight to his nether regions. His mind filled with flashes of Heero fucking Quatre, or Quatre fucking Heero, and all of it somehow linked to him.

Quatre was looking up at him, his eyes clear and unwavering, his lips parted. Inviting him, waiting for him. "Quatre...?" said Trowa.

"I'm here," he answered, "For you. If you'll have me."

"I... Quatre, I..." Trowa started, not knowing what words were to follow in his bewilderment. He was undeniably drawn to Quatre--he felt it simmering in his blood, rushing his veins. And yet it frightened him, the very ineluctable nature of the desire. For it was more than desire, it was nearly imperative and wholly beyond his conscious control.

And as always, Trowa fought to be in control.

Quatre knelt up between his legs and pressed his fingertips over Trowa's lips. "You don't have to say anything more right now. Just tell me whether you want me to stay with you tonight."

Trowa waited for Heero to say something in response--anything--but Heero remained silent. His presence was limited to the warm pressure against Trowa's back.

"You can stop fighting it, Trowa. Please," said Quatre.

Trowa closed his eyes.

He tried to ignore the blood pounding relentlessly to his loins, tried to salvage his reason, his integrity. But Quatre was seeping into him, through the touch on his legs that connected them, through the rawness of the moment. He could hear Quatre calling him, as he had before.

It was safety and warmth and comfort and bliss and ecstasy. Acceptance, trust... faith. Home.

It had all been betrayed. Could he survive another fall?

"Let me love you."

"Let him love you."

"I..."

"I'll be here too," said Heero.

"Both of us."

"We'll be here to catch you."

"All right," said Trowa, and he opened his eyes.

**the end**


End file.
